Childhood smells of perfume and brownies.
quote by David Leavitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brownies
My closed friend came
brought a brownies
for my families
talked about our past lifes
that I couldn't remember
well yet
but were enough
to brought love
each other
our past
and the future
friendships
like sweet brownies
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Perfume 'A La Larissa
“A La Larissa” perfume has appeared!
The fragrance of it is great and neared.
It’s just for your elegance and intelligence.
It’s not for the masses!
It’s for the women in the evening dresses.
It’s for the ladies of extra classes.
This perfume is an explosion of warmth,
It gives you real sexual storms.
It gives you the enveloping notes,
It rises up your best emotes,
It’s a heady memorable ode,
It’s the mode of a highly sort of perfume.
You’ll feel comfortable with it at any ballroom.
It’s eccentric smell will make you feel so well.
When you are in the evening gown,
It will turn all heads on its own.
This perfume is really the best.
The best and… out of the rest!
Just a dropp of it and…you are on the top.
And a dropp and …you’ll be for sure the pop.
What a prestige! What a delight!
Magic perfume “ A La Larissa”! ! !
You can only hear men’s whisper:
She is a vanquisher!
Is she a princess from Saragossa?
Oh, no! This aroma is from Odessa!
It has the smell of the Black Sea.
It has the fragrance of an acacia tree.
“A La Larissa’ perfume is just fantastic!
It’s so poetic and esthetic!
It smells the rain, it smells the snow!
The world of all flowers it shows!
With “A La Larissa” you’ll understand
What real art is on our land.
Using “A La Larissa”
You’ll get the ocean of sensation.
You’ll get your impersa
And…it will cause a poet’s inspiration.
It will give you the best charm,
It will give you the tenderness alarm.
You’ll be out of masses an exception!
You’ll be … The Lady Perfection!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 5th of October,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Bedroom
(toby keith/chuck cannon)
Woke up this morning with day old coffee
Smoked what was left of your cigarette
Sit by the phone just in case you call me
It aint ringing yet
Youre probably half way to albuquerque
Youll hang a north up to santa fe
Youll never know just how much it hurt me
To watch you walk away
From my blue bedroom
Ive got a sad and lonely view
Of a melancholy moon
My pillow smells like your perfume
Missing you in my blue bedroom
You never told me why you were leaving
I guess you did what you had to do
If you find that love is what youre needing
Its waiting here for you
From my blue bedroom
Ive got a sad and lonely view
Of a melancholy moon
My pillow smells like your perfume
Missing you in my blue bedroom
You left a red dress, some purple shoes
That silver comb that you never used
A yellow ribbon from your hair
Baby youre still everywhere
In my blue bedroom
In my blue bedroom
Ive got a sad and lonely view
Of a melancholy moon
My pillow smells like your perfume
Missing you
Im needing you
Baby I want you
In my blue bedroom
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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It Was Good Then
I go back to my childhood
And images come flying at me
These water color memories
That have faded to a certain extent
With the passage of time
Fade no more
But become no brighter.
I remember things in
Sunshine yellows
And frosty blues
Minty greens
And lavender hues.
I remember smells.
Is it even possible to remember
Smell?
But, I swear I do.
Days had their own smell
Skin had its own smell
Sticky with sweat
From playing outside at high noon.
The grass, flowers, and air
Were scented.
By some far away perfume
Carried from place to place.
I remember the feel of grass
Between my bare toes.
I remember laughter.
I remember the gnarled trunk of
A tree under my hands and
Shoeless feet
When I climbed all the way to the top
And was not afraid to look or
Climb down.
I remember being a gypsy child
Going from place to place
Town to town
Without fear.
I remember making friends
I remember innocence..
I remember
Security,
Something I have forgotten since.
I remember
Childhood
Water color memories.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Last Night I Dreamt Your Perfume
Last night I dreamt your perfume
While I held you in my hand
Last night I dreamt your perfume
You will never understand
The way you make me feel
The promise that you give
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Lost in those dreams I live
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Arched fingers cupped your breast
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Felt your warm breath brush my chest
With gel coat slide I gripped you
Sensation through my veins
Last night I dreamt your perfume
She who bears no name
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Your body meshed with mine
Last night I dreamt your perfume
A guilty pleasure, sweet, sublime
Quiet by my pillow
Your touch I never feel
Last night I dreamt your perfume
This morning, wished you real
poem by Bill Smith
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Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.
quote by John Betjeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Body Of Lies
frankly, i do not need
a lot of dawning light
for me to see clearly
your body of lies.....
i do not wish to see
each curve and whiteness
of each soft skin and
smooth edge of your
fingers,
your neck that
smells like perfume
of those night
blooming flowers...
it is so beautiful when
felt than seen...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candy Perfume Girl
Young velvet porcelain boy
Devour me when you're with me
Blue wish window seas
Speak delicious fires
I'm your candy perfume girl
Your candy perfume girl
Moist warm desire
Fly to me
I'm your candy perfume girl
Your candy perfume girl
I'm your candy perfume girl
Candy
song performed by by Madonna from Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Len Webster's 'Childhood Is...
Childhood Is
when the world to come
is an adventure to be met
Childhood Is
running and hiding
peeking around blind corners
hoping you have been followed
Childhood Is
ducking and diving
dreaming of being in the best
football team in the world
and scoring the winning goal
in the Cup FInal
Childhood Is
being the perfect person
(or not being caught out
when you're not being
the perfect person)
Childhood Is
a mass of contradictions
you don't want to unravel
Childhood Is
a nice cosy bed,
clean sheets
and Mummy's kisses
poem by Len Webster
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Childhood Is...
Childhood is hanging your pictures on the refrigerator, and tea parties you always have to cater.
Childhood is chasing butterflies and picking flowers,
playing with blocks and making towers.
Childhood is hating nap time,
and thinking everything is always MINE
Childhood is crayons and coloring books,
Playing hide and go seek in all the right nooks.
Childhood is falling asleep to your favorite lullaby,
wishing you had wings so you could soar into the sky.
Childhood is only crying over a scrapped knee,
or being stung by a bumble bee
Childhood is thinking boys have cooties,
or your mom making you wear itchy booties.
Childhood is ruining mommy's new leather,
and making friends and keeping them forever.
Childhood finally ends,
When you start to grow up,
And not having to drink out of a sippy cup
poem by Shenika Vermaak
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Knowing The Sinfullness Of Each?
smelling like rotten egg
cum fist intestines thrown in
crowded squatter canals of
his little town,
he went to the local catholic church
to make them all feel
how it smells to be a congenital
sinner
no amount of bath
soap, astringent, perfume
can cancel this
smell
of course, everyone was mad
at him
and pretended that they do not know him
correct: who knows one self really?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Eht Emas
There once was a place where everyone was Tan
Every woman, child, and man
Tan hair, Tan shoes, Tan skin, and Tan clothes
Why they were all Tan is something that nobody knows
For you see in this place of monotonous living un-Tan beings were unheard of
There was a very strange thing about these Tan people.
For you see the Tan people had wings but many feared to fly
A Yellow man came to this place one day
It seemed that the Yellow man was strange
His hair was not Tan and his skin was not Tan
He smiled more often and dressed funny too
His name was Alabazoo
He came from a place called Tnereffid
The Tan people were irate and filled with hate
Who did this Yellow man think he was?
As much as the Yellow man tried to be liked the Tan people would not budge
The Yellow man offered the Tan people Brownies they wanted Fudge
Though it seems some of Tan people preferred Brownies,
Some secretly wished for Fudge
They growled and they hissed until the Yellow man left
Leaving the Tan people of Lamron to their life.
The Tan people still exist but is seems that they reside only in Sdnim now.
poem by Jeanne Harmon
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She Is In Love
she is in love, how can i not notice it?
she wakes up early, goes into her garden
and sings a beautiful song, very early this morning.
she waters her roses, and feeds the chickens.
she cooks breakfast. The eggs are fresh.
The meat well cooked and so tasty.
The coffee smells the aroma of coffee.
What else?
The room is clean, the kitchen so well kept.
My polo shirt is ready, my socks, handkerchief,
my underwear, my shoes, my tie, they're all
placed on bed for me to wear today.
The room smells with perfume
Her favorite, Victoria's secret.
She kisses me twice now, and another one
before i leave.
Life is beautiful, she repeats it again and again.
She stays in the house now. No travels this time.
No loafing with friends.
Tell me that i am conceited.
She is still in love with me. Now on our 12th year of marriage.
I look again at our wedding ring. The tiny diamond there still glitters.
Against the sunlight. Against all the odds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If each Raindropp turns into pennies
I send a message to the weeping sky,
When you pour your tear drops
Just request from the Rain-Goddess
And make them copper to the burning souls.
In gratitude, I promise to send you a miniature perfume bottle
That smells human fragrance and it's ideal for the festive seasons.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The girl is more inviting who smells of wild thyme than she who smells of musk.
Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
When My Childhood Dies
You see it in the my eyes,
The walls are built up on me.
Delightness will replaced my guiltiness,
When my childhood dies.
Afraid to show surprising face because of my shame of be young and dumb.
It's best to hold your tongue,
When my childhood dies.
Uniqueness deemed unwisely on
One’s life must it fit in.
And wear a different skin,
When my childhood dies.
Behind adult disguise,
A too tight gown.
All naturalness shut down,
When my childhood dies.
You see it in the eyes,
At nine or eight.
Before, if that's their fate,
When my childhood dies soon.
poem by Evevona Plummer
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It Smells Like Rain
It smells like rain
filling the air
before the first drops break
in quiet splashes on the river.
It smells like rain
musty and fresh at once
warning the birds
to go home.
And the rain comes
water on water
cool rush of sound
quieting insects
teasing fish
drenching boaters
surprised by the storm.
It smells like rain
It sounds like rain
It looks like rain, now
I’ll go outside
and feel the rain.
Hell. I’ll be the rain.
poem by Robert Fort
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My Innocent Childhood
soil soil and soil, , playing in the soil,
No fear of disease, no fear of toil.
What a wonderful days that was,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Only friend no foes,
no thinking of what dont and what does.
No fear of future, no thinking of present,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
What was the past, leave it, it surpassed,
what has to happen, lets face when it comes.
Future planning! What is this?
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Play was religion and play was God,
only thing which gave fear, was my fathers rod.
Crying crying crying a lot, then said love you pappa,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
poem by Zeya Mallick
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